


Phantom Squadron

by millenniumrobin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenniumrobin/pseuds/millenniumrobin
Summary: Three years after the Battle of Endor, the remnants of the Empire still live and control vital planets and shipping lanes. Hotshot pilot Dick Grayson and others are recruited on a secret mission that will not only test their skills to the limit, but also the trust they place in one another.Written for the Batfam Week 2018 challenge: AU





	Phantom Squadron

               Explosions dotted the starscape. Laser blasts and missile detonations produced miniature supernovas that were just as deadly as the real thing. But despite the chaos of battle and destruction around him, Dick Grayson felt nothing but peace.  
               You see, this was home. Here, in the cockpit of his X-wing looping through a battle high above some mid-Rim Imperial world he had never heard of until last week. It didn’t matter that any of those countless explosions outside his cockpit could be the last thing he ever saw, there was never a time that Dick Grayson felt more alive than when he was staring Death in the face. Besides, in his X-wing, the young Lieutenant was positive he could outfly Death and all his demons any day of the week.  
               “Hey, uh, Nightwing, aren’t you getting a little close to that Star Destroyer?” The voice of his wingman Jason Todd crackled through his headset. They’d been friends for what seemed like years now, but in reality had only been a couple of months. But given the average life span of pilots, both were rapidly approaching middle age.  
               “Where’s your sense of adventure, Demolitions?” Grayson almost cackled as he stood his fighter on its wing and dove toward the triangle-shaped behemoth. “Besides, I was going to give you a nice, juicy target to blow up.”  
               He could almost hear the excitement in his wingman’s voice. “Well why didn’t you say so in the first place? What’s the plan?” _Plan_ was a strong word. Dick had more of an _idea_. An idea that would never have been allowed by his squadron commander but she… he checked her position. She wouldn’t be able to stop him.  
               “I’m going to draw their fire and take out their shield towers. While they’re focused on me, you target the bridge and do what you do best.”  
               “You make it sound so easy.” Dick grinned as he kept a light grip on his flight stick while emerald streaks of energy began racing past him. Yes, it sounded easy. But all it would take would be one wrong move, or one extremely lucky gunner, to turn him and his X-wing into space gas.  
               The ship below him grew as he sped toward it from above, filling his viewport. Dick’s computer tagged it as the _Cleaver_. His smile got bigger. “Time for the _Cleaver_ to be cleaved.”  
               Keeping his fighter’s path unpredictable to avoid the incoming turbolaser fire, Dick pulled up on his stick, the top of the Star Destroyer now squarely underneath his X-wing’s belly. Ahead was his target: the shield towers on top of the bridge spire. Switching his weapons over to proton torpedoes, he targeted the first tower. Getting a quick and steady tone, he fired two of the missiles. Without even waiting to see if they hit, he slid his focus to the second tower.  
               But he was coming in too fast. Dick blasted through the dissipating fireball from the first tower and immediately began to loop around behind the Imperial ship towards the second.  
               “Hey, uh, Nightwing.” Jason’s voice again. “Those shields are still up. And the guns. They see me.” Dick swore under his breath, yanking the stick to make his turn even tighter. There was no turning back for Jason now, but if he didn’t get that shield down fast, Dick knew he’d be needing a new wingman very soon.

               At least he didn’t have to worry about the _Cleaver_ ’s guns anymore. Coming at the Imperial ship from behind, there weren’t really any guns that could get a bead on him. Dick rocked his body back and forth in his seat, physically willing his ship to move faster. His computer began to beep as it started getting a lock on the other shield tower.

               “Nightwing, it’s getting a little toasty here.” A pause. “ _Very_  toasty.” Dick reached over, adjusting his shields as he ran through some quick calculations in his head.

               “When I launch, fire exactly one second later. Then get out of there.”

               “Is that going to give your missile enough time…”

               “No questions, Demolitions. Just do it.” Dick took a deep breath as his computer registered a steady tone around the shield tower. Either this was going to work, or they were both probably going to die. So it had better work.

               He squeezed his finger around the trigger, the neon blue streak of a proton torpedo erupting from his fighter and racing off towards the Star Destroyer. A second later, his computer registered the twin torpedoes launched from Jason’s fighter. In those split seconds between launch and impact, time seemed to stand still for Dick. Even the deadly energy boiling off the _Cleaver_ seemed to silence.

               Then the torpedo slammed into the shield dome, shattering it into a million pieces before that shrapnel was overtaken by a rapidly expanding ball of gas and fire. The invisible cone of protection around the _Cleaver_ seemed to shimmer for a moment to the naked eye before failing completely. Faster than Dick’s computer could even register that the shields were down, the boxy bridge seemed to soften and then expand as molten fragments began pouring out the back and lower corners. Jason’s X-wing came leaping over the top of the superstructure, emerald laser blasts firing ineffectively into space behind him.

               A celebratory war whoop escaped Dick’s lips as he and his wingman dove away from the wreckage of the _Cleaver_ , now listing toward the planet without a command crew. Escape pods were already jettisoning off the war machine, rats fleeing a sinking ship doomed to burn up in the atmosphere and crash on the planet’s surface below.

               Minutes later they were both safely inside the Mon Calamari fleet cruiser, _Cosain_. Settling his fighter down gently, Dick doffed his helmet and hopped out without waiting for a ladder. As his knees bent beneath him, he brushed his hand over the space where he would have the techs paint a Star Destroyer on his X-wing, denoting his latest kill.

               “That was some maneuver there, Lieutenant,” Jason said as he rounded the nose of Dick’s fighter and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got some new laser scoring across my belly, but that Star Destroyer silhouette will sure look pretty.” Before Dick could respond, a new voice cut through the din of the hanger bay.

               “Grayson! Todd!” Both pilots turned to see a petite human woman with a dark complexion and a mane of ebony hair cascading down her back advancing towards them. In unison, the two men snapped to attention, tossing salutes.

               “Captain Bertinelli,” Dick began, dropping his hand after she returned the salute. “Congratulations on…”

               “What the hell were you two thinking?” Her snapped answer cut him off, fire raging in her eyes. “The mission was to _disable_ the _Cleaver_ , not destroy it. Or were you daydreaming during the briefing again and missed that little detail?” Dick’s mouth flopped open in an inadvertently good impersonation of a Mon Calamari. Truth be told, he _didn’t_ recall the order to disable the _Cleaver_ , if possible, but he was sure he could make things right.

               “Look, Captain, I…”

               “Oh no, Lieutenant Grayson. No apologies. No excuses. Not to me anyway.” Bertinelli took a half step back, exposing the door of the hanger to them. “You’ve got a higher power to answer to now.”

               Dick and Jason exchanged glances that carried both resignation and fear before shuffling off through the door and up the waiting turbolift to the bridge, helmets still in hand. Admiral Jim Gordon had a reputation of being a real hardass and a stickler for rules, though Dick had heard rumors of him running a little outside the lines back in his earlier years. But that had been back when the Rebellion was still a, well, rebellion. In the three years since Endor, as the New Republic tried to clean up the very last of the Empire, things were getting much more rigid.

               Walking onto the bridge of the _Cosain_ , Dick and Jason fully expected to find the white-haired, bespectacled Admiral waiting for them. Instead, a white hoverchair waited halfway down the gangway. The two pilots approached it, but before they could speak a slender hand shot up, silencing any excuses on their lips. The chair slowly turned.

               Sitting in the hoverchair was a woman, Captain’s insignia pinned to her chest. But it was not her rank nor her position on the bridge that left Dick’s mouth once again hanging open in a poor imitation of the Mon Calamari. It was her beauty. Her hair, a shocking amber red, was pulled back into a severe bun and holographic glasses covered piercing green eyes. Her frame was athletically built, though her uniform was properly tailored to hide almost all her body’s curve. The only part of this perfect officer’s ensemble that was missing were her boots. Dick couldn’t tell what she wore on her feet as her legs were tucked up underneath her in the chair.

               The Captain did not rise to greet them, but instead regarded them both with a fiery intensity from her seated position. After letting them stew for a moment, the redhead raised her fingers and steepled them in front of her.

               “So,” she began, her voice cold and sharper than a vibroblade. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you both court marshaled _right now_.”


End file.
